Ecstasy, GHB, and SpecialK. A foolish affinity for thesedrugs—that accompanied my gluttony for thesex kittens of clubland—landedme behind bars. My pre-arrestself firmly believed that the philosophicmeaning of life amountedto partying. My time in prisonhas been the most stressful andsoul-searching period of my life.While incarcerated, I have fallenin love with writing, and begun ablog that has attracted moreattention than I deserve.

My slide into lawlessness tookan unconventional route. I ama British business grad who becamea stockbroker in Phoenix.I later quit the rat race to throwraves. On May 16th, 2002, I wasarrested for money launderingand a cornucopia of drugcharges.

From the media, I learned I wasfacing life in prison and that wehad done enough designer drugsto kill a herd of elephants. Thelatter claim was grossly inaccurate,as I alone had dumbly doneenough drugs to kill every elephantin Africa, never mind someitty-bitty herd. It was all fun andgames until some heavily-armedgentlemen wearing SWAT garbknocked my front door down.Even though it was my behaviorand the harm I was causing thathad invited them, I was shocked.

Those who work for the justicesystem have a propensity for crimethat dwarfs even my own. Myright to a speedy trial, a reasonablebond, and humane livingconditions were nonexistent. Iwas held for twenty-six monthswithout trial, and the bull marketin my bond peaked at $1.5million (cash only). Here’s howI described the conditions in myJuly 13th, 2004 blog entry: “Atthe weekend, two inmates onmy floor attempted to commitsuicide. One threw himself off abalcony and survived. The otherwas discovered trying to hanghimself. Sadder still, an inmatehoused in a medium-security podwas found dead in the shower. Inmatesare often ‘smashed’ in theshower area because it is out ofview of the cameras.

When I was a small child, Iimagined that hell consisted ofcaves in which the damned weretrapped, tortured, and burned. Iimagined serpents and indescribablecreepy crawlies tormentingthe captives. I never imaginedthat man’s nature could be sohateful as to recreate these conditionson earth.”

Friedrich Nietzsche was rightabout thoughts of suicide being agreat consolation; they helped meget through many a cockroach-riddled night. But there is anotheroutlet that commenced freeing myrepressed emotions and has ultimatelyenabled me to transcendmy punishment: writing.

When it felt as if the fullweight of the judicial apparatushad crushed my mind (I was seeingimaginary cockroaches andhearing unsympathetic voices), Isought solace in documenting theminutiae of cellular living. I usedgolf pencils sharpened on thewall and paper that often becamedrenched in sweat as I wrote. Myparents saw glimmers of hope inmy prose, and encouraged me toexpose what was going on via an onlineblog.

We launched the blog covertlydue to fear of reprisals by the bossof the jail, Sheriff Joe Arpaio, andhis goons. Prisoners died mysteriouslyeach year, and Arpaio (the mostsued sheriff in America) has beenfound responsible by the courtsfor so many inmate deaths that hequalifies for serial-killerstatus. So my scrappy notes weresmuggled out of the MadisonStreet jail by my aunt who visitedweekly. She then e-mailed themto my parents who posted themunder a pseudonym.

The media caught wind of myblog when I was out of Arpaio’sreach, and in the custody of theArizona Department of Corrections(serving the balance of thenine-and-a-half-year sentence Ihad signed a plea bargain for).The subsequent outpouring ofsupport was staggering. Mediarequests came in to publish blogexcerpts, and I teamed up withMothers Against Arpaio to campaignagainst Sheriff Joe.

It has now been two-and-a-half years since the genesis ofthe blog, and I continue to receivepositive feedback from asteadily-growing, internationalreadership. These days, I mostlypost my own experiences that stara colorful cast of prison characters.Such stories include how Idodge booty bandits, deal withembarrassing medical problems,and attempt to romance a youngwoman called Royo Girl. Here’san excerpt written on April 24th,2006: “In a diner full of prisonersseething over their puny pizzaportions, the Machiavellian food-dispenser dealt me a gargantuanpiece of pizza putting my life inimmediate danger…Word of mymassive pizza migrated to surroundingdiners, so I wolfed itdown to ease table tension.”

Through this column, I hopeto humanize prisoners, give youa tasted of this netherworld, andif all else fails, at least make youlaugh.

3 comments:

I really enjoyed the new piece, eloquently written as always. I read the Guardian article a couple of years ago and was overwhelmed by the horrors of your incarceration.

I find it so inspiring that you maintain your spirits in the face of such adversity, and it's a credit to you that you strive to find humanity in a place where it would likely be so lacking.

I'm not sure if these comments reach you, however I'd just like to wish you well and to keep up the Papillion spirit!!! I'm currently working as a trainee criminal solicitor in Scotland, so I'd also be interested in the legal dynamics of your case etc